Fair Twins in Middle Earth Did Dwell
by katiecattaylor
Summary: Twins Arwen and Elwen, half-mortal descendants of Aragorn Elessar, live happily in the forests of Lothlorien with the remaining elves in the fourth age. Soon, a threat will rise that may put the fate of Middle Earth in their hands. Are they ready?
1. Prologue

**Title: **Fair Twins in Middle Earth Did Dwell

**Disclaimer: **J.R.R. Tolkein is responsible for the world history and background, but the principal characters in this fic are my own. I am writing this for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **None yet… only the twins, but no twincest.

**Warnings: Occurs post-Return of the King. **Not compliant with annexes I-III. Presumes that not all elves have departed for the Grey Havens as of the birth of Aragorn and Arwen's grandchildren, two of which this story details. Will include a good deal of violence and possibly some mild sexual activity in later chapters.

**Rating: **T for sexual references and some violence.

**Summary: **Arwen and Elwen, two part-elf descendants of Eldarion son of Aragorn, complete training in arts of the mind and body with elves in Lothlorien to prepare for their part in a prophecy that will decide the balance of light and darkness in the Fourth Age.

**Author's Notes: **Bear in mind that I wrote this when I was sixteen years old, and will be making only minor changes as I upload the full story in parts. Considering, I'd say it's a pretty fair narrative take on J.R.R. Tolkein's works. The main characters are modeled after myself and a close friend who collaborated.

Also, this preliminary chapter is a historical piece on does not reflect the majority of the composition, which will be a third-person narrative.

* * *

_- Prologue -_

_I__n the year of the birth of King Arvedui Last-king, the royal couple, the queen still heavy with child, took council with Malbeth the Seer. The woman foretold of their son's fate as the Dunedain's last king of Gondor until the end of the fourth age. When Arvedui was a man in his prime, an elf with foresight who knew the old Malbeth the Seer came to relay a prophecy to him, the last of the Dunedain to lay claim to the kingship of Gondor until the King Elessar Telcontar. _

"_T__he King Elessar shall sire a son who shall sire two noble daughters. The fair-born twins must grow up away from palace and hall of stone, away from their royal family and the life of a princess' luxury. When their grandfather's time in life is nearly spent, a great and terrible force of evil shall threaten all of Middle-Earth. If the maidens have been taught correctly, they shall bring victory to all mankind. Should the girls fail, evil will overrun the lands where there was once peace and goodness. They shall not be alone, for the Valar shall watch over the two. But the task will be theirs alone to complete." Arvedui did not entirely understand this prophecy, but he recorded it with care nonetheless. _

_T__herefore, it came to pass that Gilraen, mother of Aragorn, lay on her deathbed. She summoned her son Aragorn to herself and after passing the legacy of the Dunedain onto her beloved heir; she passed on the well-worn scroll with the prophecy recorded in black, curling script. The parchment bore the label "For Aragorn son of Arathorn." Her last words were "Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim." After this, Aragorn, a young man still, said his last farewells, leaving his mother at peace in the halls of Rivendell. Aragorn never forgot that last memory of his mother. _

_The years passed, and the time came when Eldarion, son of Aragorn, begot twin girls by his wife and queen Adelaide. When the babes, christened Elwen and Arwen, were one year of age, their royal parents sadly resigned themselves to the fulfillment of the prophecy. Though it nearly broke their hearts, they readied their guard to accompany the royals on a trip out to a small mountain settlement in Emyn Muil, where dwelt the king's friend of old, Horobad, and niece Linnëan. Linnëan had no children of her own, for she was too old to wed, so she was more than willing to accept little Elwen and sister Arwen._

_Although the plan was perfect and the participants willing, fate intervened and put a tragic end to the future that hopeful human planning had prepared for the babes. The party Eldarion and Adelaide had been traveling with was attacked and taken by surprise by a small band of robbers. They threw crude spears and shot arrows at random from their rough short bows, and sadly, one of their wooden spears found Adelaide's heart. She fell off her balance on the back of a fine mare named Fiershane, and the spooked horse fled in all of the confusion. Eldarion, maddened with grief at his wife's death, charged at the brigands in a reckless rage, fighting spear and sword with bare fists. He crumpled to the earth under blows from no less than ten spears and numerous arrows. _

_Strapped secure amongst the queen's bags, Elwen and Arwen slept soundly in their basket bed. The guards of the group of travelers killed what remained of the terrible robbers, but when the party regrouped and all was calm again, nobody noticed that the horse bearing the infant girls was missing. They buried the dead and made a quick about-face, returning at a gallop to Minas Tirith with a sorely wounded and grief-stricken Eldarion, not realizing that all the while Fiershane the petrified mare was carrying Arwen and her twin away. She was headed for the one place that she felt most calm in: Rohan. _

_The 'land of horses'… towards it were the twins unknowingly borne. The fleet-footed young mare tore recklessly down the road of Anorien and in seven days' time reached Edoras. Curiously, neither Arwen nor Elwen were soiled, hungry, uncomfortable, or in any way disturbed after five days without human care. It was later said that they must have been aided by the Valar. _

* * *

_Elfwine, son of Éomer, was king of Rohan in this age. His own lovely Queen Fëanor discovered the infants from Gondor. The queen had already borne four healthy children to Elfwine, the oldest one, Éomund, already a strapping young man of seventeen. Fëanor was watching her younger children - little Thorongil was but four and his sisters, Éolaf and Freya, were barely turned nine and eleven. The young women laughed gaily, as they ran and rolled in the grass on a hillside. Not far off lay the main road into Edoras. Poor little Thorongil was struggling to keep up with the long-legged girls on his own chubby short ones. Their fair mother sat on the hilltop, a sentinel standing guard over her offspring. Fëanor let her eyes explore the countryside as she found that Freya and Éolaf were safely seated in the grass, showing a weary Thorongil how to weave a crown out of grass and wildflowers. _

_The queen was gazing around in a preoccupied sort of manner when she spied a lone horse, weary to the bone and clearly on the brink of collapsing from hunger and dehydration. Fëanor shot up from her seat in the grass. Giving one last glance to her brood in their nest of grass, she descended quickly down the hillside facing the road. She slowly approached the mare, which nearly shied away, but perhaps from sheer exhaustion, the horse calmed down and let Fëanor stroke her heaving sides. Fiershane, for indeed it was she, whickered softly as the gentle hands of the woman stroked her nose. The mare smelt the scent of many happy horses on Feanor's clothes, and heard the kind human voice murmuring, "Steady, steady there girl. You are in Rohan now, the land of your brethren. You shall not fear while you stay in this country, where horses and men live in harmony." _

_Fiershane did not resist as Queen Fëanor slowly reached for the reins dangling beneath her head and took a firm grip on them. The horse almost reared and bolted when Feanor's three children came tumbling down the hill towards her, but they, too had contented horse aromas faintly about their bodies, and their smaller hands were also gentle like the hands of their—_

"_Mother, where did this pretty one come from? She is not from our herd or our stables, is she?" asked Freya in a soft voice._

"_This mare has come a long way, riding hard and fast without halting for rest, water, or food, I believe. Only fear would cause a horse to undertake such a grueling journey. We must take her to our stables - this mare is in bad shape," replied Fëanor, not telling her innocent little ones that there was dried blood on the back of the horse, and it was not the horse's own blood._

_The girls skipped away unconcerned, swinging a chortling Thorongil between them by his chubby arms. Fëanor quietly led Fiershane after the children to Edoras, capital of Rohan. She entered through the outer wall and pursued a direct course to the stable doors, held open by a boy with a flushed face and shy "Milady."_

_Fëanor was about to follow Freya and Éolaf to Meduseld, the grand hall, leaving the horse to the care of the wonderful grooms, when she heard a small soft noise coming from one of the horse's burdens. Her curiosity piqued, Fëanor inspected the bags for the source of the sound; imagine her surprise at finding not one, but __two__ babies asleep in a basket! _

_In the arms of Fëanor, Elwen and Arwen were brought before King Elfwine, and after a brief discussion, he and Fëanor decided to raise the children as their own. No identification of the babes was to be found in their mother's bags, save that they came from Minas Tirith. The King and Queen could not say why, but they knew somehow that the infants ought to be called Arwen and Elwen, and that fate had sent them to Edoras._

* * *

_Seven years passed, and none could recall a time when the fair twins were not a part of their lives, though they were all aware of the strange circumstances of the children's adoption into the royal family. Éolaf and Freya dearly loved their younger sisters, helping the eight year olds to learn their lessons and ride horses, for in Rohan, children very nearly grow up on horseback. On a certain sunny day in spring, the King and Queen had decided that a journey to the woods of Lórien was in order, where the royal couple would spend time with the Faderlings. They were the elves who had not left and journeyed into the West; because they remained, they were slowly fading into nothing. Nevertheless, they still had much wisdom to teach and were great artisans of all manner of things._

_Whence all preparations had been made by the able hands of the noble couple and loyal aides, and the wise Hamahad, advisor to the king, left in charge, a party of Rohirrim left at a brisk pace with all of the royal family for the woods of Lórien. Elwen rode with her eldest brother Éomund on his pony Eldos and Arwen with Freya on the gentle P'nini. The gentle rhythm of horseback lulled both girls to sleep, so when the company first entered the wood, both twins were slumbering in the saddle, legs dangling. _

_Éomund, of twenty four years now, was an able, strong warrior and adept diplomat in peacetime, but he supported his adoptive sister's body as she slept so gently one would think she were breakable. Moreover, when his eyes strayed from Elwen or the path, it was only to glance at Arwen, in a similar state of sleep, supported just as gently by Freya._

_Freya had inherited her mother's flyaway fawn-colored hair and strong, noble features, matured into a lovely young woman of eighteen. _

_Sixteen-year-old Éolaf was attractive as well, but her looks favored the broad, handsome looks of her father and tanned skin with golden hair of her grandfather. Through the responsibility of having her own younger sisters to care for, Éolaf had developed her own individual persona, no longer mimicking Freya in all she did. Éolaf was a definite tomboy, preferring to wear fine men's garments than less practical dresses._

_She was followed on horseback by lanky and agile Thorongil, who was maturing into a fine lad of eleven with more speed than the sheer force of Éomund – but the brothers were as thick as thieves, despite their differences in age. _

_In the lead were the King Elfwine, blond and fair-skinned yet muscled, and __Queen Fëanor__, brunette and ruddy yet beautiful in a strong way._

_Then there were the twins, who surpassed any mortal in beauty and grace. They were not identical, for Elwen had curling brown locks and eyes green flecked with rich gold, whereas Arwen had sea green eyes and straight, strawberry blond hair. However, each had the same ageless, potent beauty, and while they were in truth eight years old, they looked to be only five or younger. Their mannerisms were those of older children, hinting at a more than mortal heritage._

_The hence described party halted no more than a furlong from the edge at King Elfwine's signal. He dismounted and brought forth a small silver flute, intricately engraved with an intertwining vine motif. He brought it to his lips and it emitted a mellow trilling call whose noise echoed faintly back from the forest, a noise both beautiful and immeasurably sad. From the shadows, fluid beings stepped forth gracefully and without a sound, graceful longbows in hand but not raised. They, too, were simultaneously beautiful like the trill of the flute, yet their eyes revealed gazes full of the heartache of many thousands of years. They had indeed seen the passing of so many millennia, for they were the elves of Lothlórien, most beautiful of elf-kingdoms._

_These elves were Faderlings, and such was their name because their refusal to heed the calling to leave middle-earth for the land of their kindred in the west. Some stayed because they had no desire nor cause to go, others because they had work yet unfinished, and the oldest and wisest because they knew of a prophecy of old that must be fulfilled with Elven aid. Whatever the motive, all of the elves were slowly fading away as the years came and went. There were only twenty in all, but the Faderlings radiated calm power as they approached and encircled the party from Rohan. None panicked, for they had been told what to expect. The tallest and most beautiful elf, a strong male with a regal bearing, stepped forward._

"_Welcome, lords and ladies, to the Golden wood. We have been expecting you," the spokes-elf intoned in a musical voice. "I am Atanamir." He beckoned to the elf on his right and addressed the party: "This is Daeron. He will accompany the gentlemen to their living spaces." Another elf stepped forward to take the women to their spaces, named Ninniach. _

"_Lord Elfwine, Lady Fëanor, if you would follow me to the private halls; we have much to speak of."_

* * *

_Thus, it became known to Elfwine and Fëanor the true past of Elwen and Arwen; for the Faderlings, in communication with the King Elessar of Gondor, had been looking out for the twins. Sadly, the girls truly were orphans, for their father Eldarion had died from his wounds on the day their mother was killed, so long ago, ere his return to Minas Tirith. As joyous as the news of the twins' survival was, Atanamir and his elves had to ask something difficult of Arwen and Elwen's adopted family of Rohan. Atanamir feared to waste time on the training of the girls, but to accept them as part of Lórien's inhabitants also meant they could no longer stay with their adoptive family. King Elfwine called his children to him when the twins were sleeping that night. Although nobody was less than heartbroken to be parted __from their twins, in the end the family agreed it was best for Elwen and Arwen. _

_Such memories were only vague shadows to Elwen, a woman now in her twenties. Her sister Arwen, too, remembered little but their life with the elves of Lothlórien. Tall and graceful, they seemed to be elves themselves, but like Men, they were sturdy. Under the tall mallorn trees, the twins had learned the proper arts of Elven skill, such as writing in Tengwar and Angerthas forms, playing flutes and lyres, and dancing. They had also learned proper archery, swordsmanship, and wilderness subsistence. One thing they never had to be taught was the riding of a horse, for they were raised as children of the horse lords._

_Well-taught by the elves, the girls feel ready to take on the world. They may wind up coming close to it._


	2. Tasks Most Difficult

**Title: **Fair Twins in Middle Earth Did Dwell

**Disclaimer: **J.R.R. Tolkein is responsible for the world history and background, but the principal characters in this fic are my own. I am writing this for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **None yet… only the twins, but no twincest.

**Warnings: Occurs post-Return of the King. **Not compliant with annexes I-III. Presumes that not all elves have departed for the Grey Havens as of the birth of Aragorn and Arwen's grandchildren, two of which this story details. Will include a good deal of violence and possibly some mild sexual activity in later chapters.

**Rating: **T for sexual references and some violence.

**Summary: **Arwen and Elwen, two part-elf descendants of Eldarion son of Aragorn, complete training in arts of the mind and body with elves in Lothlorien to prepare for their part in a prophecy that will decide the balance of light and darkness in the Fourth Age.

**Author's Notes: **Bear in mind that I wrote this when I was sixteen years old, and will be making only minor changes as I upload the full story in parts. Considering, I'd say it's a pretty fair narrative take on J.R.R. Tolkein's works. The main characters are modeled after myself and a close friend who collaborated.

* * *

- 1 -

Tasks Most Difficult

"Hey lazybones, move yourself!" Elwen blinked owlishly in the light of the sun as the bright, buoyant face of her sister Arwen swam into view.

"Unnnnhhh… I can't hear you… jus' a dream. Go away now," moaned Elwen, her thoughts muddled with the stupor of a sound sleep.

Arwen, unwilling to accept defeat, flipped the mattress off the bed and ran laughing down the elegant spiral stair with a disgruntled Elwen quick to pursue.

The twins raced down the stairs with such grace and speed it was hard to imagine them as part mortal. At last, after disrupting many elves in their morning rituals, Elwen had her sister cornered by the edge of a balcony.

"Give up?" asked Elwen.

Arwen snorted, "You wish!" and with that, she leapt over the rail into the green tinged light, with Elwen close behind. Landing on the boughs of the Mallorn trees, they seemed to traverse an unseen path made of sunlight and silvery-green foliage. The trees seemed to lean in toward the two lithe figures as they raced, protecting them from the perilous fall to the floor. This child's game of tag only lasted for moments before,

"Children, when you are done fooling around, get down here. That means now, ladies, not an hour from now."

Elwen rolled her eyes at Arwen; "Atanamir… always ruining the fun," she muttered.

Exchanging peeved glances, the girls ended their game and clambered off the Mallorn branches onto the balcony of fine elven-craft. Quickly they dressed and carried out their own morning routines before racing back down the staircases to the floor of the great forest, engaged in a friendly game of push and shove among siblings as they went.

A tall, silver-crowned elf of noble bearing and solemn composure awaited the twins at the table they met at each day before setting upon the day's grueling lessons and chores. Atanamir was their first and foremost teacher but all of the Faderlings taught Arwen and Elwen, as was their duty. There were none in Lórien who did not care for the twins, and all mourned that so young and promising a pair must bear such heavy burdens as their future promised to lay upon them. Oblivious to their ominous future, the twins paused for a moment in respectful silence for their mentor, and then began to talk to one another rapidly in Sindarin, the tongue of elves.

However, they did not get far into their conversation when Atanamir interrupted them.

"You two are only novices in our ways, but after some time one would think that women of the age of twenty-one, though only children in our eyes, would have more sense than to go cavorting about in such an unseemly manner." The twins protested but their instructor went on as if they had said nothing. "In the future you will do well to remember that when we have guests, such as Daekáno of Rivendell and his party, you are to act as if you two are somewhat civilized. I would hate to have another incident where someone ends up with a bed that is housing your collection of rocks or an item of unsavory nature." Abashed, the young women said nothing, knowing that it would do them little good to speak out.

"Now," he continued, "there is very little left that we as your instructors can teach to you, but there are tasks you have yet to accomplish. Before I explain them, you are to prove to me that you understand the politics of the regions of Middle-Earth. Elwen, Beleg was king in the year of…"

And so it went on with the elf-lord questioning them from past politics to recent, asking each twin in turn. The adolescents answered each question, rarely hesitating in uncertainty. After a time he judged to be appropriate, Atanamir held up is hand and said, "Enough, you have learned what you need to know. Tonight, the first of many more difficult _cered,_ shall reveal itself to you."

Arwen, curious, asked, "What are these _cered_ for?"

For a moment, a look of deep sadness flashed across the normally stoic face of the elf. Then, he sighed and finally answered, "I have dreaded the day when these words would come, but at the end of your training you are to leave the woods, to go on elsewhere. You cannot yet imagine why, and, in truth, we ourselves do not know exactly why. Our duty has simply been known to us for many years. These are the days of preparation, your final lessons, which are not teachable for your futures are your own, and for you to collect what is rightfully yours. You must claim the path you are to follow."

Startled by the news of their departure from their home, the girls were unable to ask any more questions, for in their hesitation the elf-lord briskly rose and strode away in solemnity. Silence followed the twins for the rest of the day, their mentors grieving to see the hushed behavior of the normally lively twins. The forest seemed to mirror the mood, and it was if a cloud hung about to stifle noise and instill melancholy. The very air seemed thick and depressing without the laughter and activity of the sisters. The cloud thickened, when the twins saw that their few worldly possessions were being either packed away or organized so that later they could be packed away.

* * *

After a midday meal of Lembas, Arwen and Elwen picked up their practice blades and went to their sparring sessions. Upon their arrival in the fencing arena, the twins immediately went into their stretches, not even pausing to talk or joke with one another. When done with their exercises they rose up and turned toward their mentors. The tutors that taught them were masters of the blade and warlords in the ages past. Each day Elwen and Arwen fought whatever blade master faced them, in hopes to best all of their teachers.

The twins walked to opposite ends of the field and took their stances. The opponent fighting Elwen was the elf Daekáno, visiting from Rivendell, who wished to see the girls' progress in training. Arwen was fighting Celebaglar, who was young as elves go and the closest to the twins' age at one hundred and four. Celebaglar was there the day the sisters came to live in Lórien; he was the one who they trusted they most because of his carefree attitude, uncommon among elves.

As they crossed blades, the slight sisters seemed outmatched by the two wiry built males. Without warning, Elwen struck out at Daekáno and just a moment behind her, Arwen moved quickly to the left and blocked as Celebaglar swung at her. The practice duels always attracted a small crowd and one could not watch a singular fight without the other, for even though they were two separate duels, they seemed connected to one another. As Elwen attacked, Arwen moved in defense. The fight no longer seemed a fight; the participants whirled, jumped, and moved with such grace that it seemed like a dance.

After a few moments of graceful sparring, each blow matched with blow, Elwen twisted her sword around her opponent's, knocking it from his hand. She turned just in time to watch her younger golden-haired twin effectively outmaneuver her challenger, so he was on his knees with her practice blade at his throat.

Elwen congratulated her sister and the fair maidens moved off to practice their other weapons: bows, knives and even fists, where they were allowed to hit each other, something that had amused the girls immensely in happier days, though they were too well matched to land many blows. At the end of the day, the adolescents silently washed up and ascended the stairs to the formal hall, where once Galadriel greeted the Fellowship of the Ring. The stars shone brightly but even they could not lighten the forlorn mood. The meal was a celebration of the completion of the twins training but it seemed more like a funeral dinner. Those who tried to start conversations ended up just joining the glowering silence.

The two sisters took their leave early from the meal, claiming that they had to be well rested for what was to come, but in Elwen's heart, she knew that she and her sister simply wished to remember times when they had not a care in the world. Unhurried they returned to the room that had been theirs for most of the lives. And each lay awake that night as the moon rose and night embraced the wood once filled with the light of the sun, their hearts heavy with foreboding.


	3. What Passed in the Night

**Title: **Fair Twins in Middle Earth Did Dwell

**Disclaimer: **J.R.R. Tolkein is responsible for the world history and background, but the principal characters in this fic are my own. I am writing this for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **None yet… only the twins, but no twincest.

**Warnings: Occurs post-Return of the King. **Not compliant with annexes I-III. Presumes that not all elves have departed for the Grey Havens as of the birth of Aragorn and Arwen's grandchildren, two of which this story details. Will include a good deal of violence and possibly some mild sexual activity in later chapters.

**Rating: **T for sexual references and some violence.

**Summary: **Arwen and Elwen, two part-elf descendants of Eldarion son of Aragorn, complete training in arts of the mind and body with elves in Lothlorien to prepare for their part in a prophecy that will decide the balance of light and darkness in the Fourth Age.

**Author's Notes: **Bear in mind that I wrote this when I was sixteen years old, and will be making only minor changes as I upload the full story in parts. Considering, I'd say it's a pretty fair narrative take on J.R.R. Tolkein's works. The main characters are modeled after myself and a close friend who collaborated.

* * *

- 2 -

What Passed in the Night

Arwen listened to her sister's irregular breathing and knew that she was still awake. Not that Arwen herself could sleep with the thoughts of what was to come. What was so important that the elves would spend years training them, just to make them depart? What were the _cered_ that Atanamir would not even speak of? What mysterious destiny was theirs by right? Question after question rolled through her brain and her bond with her twin made her suppose that Elwen was pondering the same queries.

Slowly the full moon rose to its zenith, and still neither sister slept. Finally, each lost their battle with sleeplessness, rose silently from their beds and put on their garb. They went down to the forest floor in silence; they clasped hands in a silent sharing of their ominous dreamings, both unwilling to talk about what was on their minds.

The floor of the forest seemed unreal, bathed in the silver glow of the moon and stars. Glancing at her sister, Arwen tipped her head to one side and as clearly as if it was said aloud, Elwen understood her twin and paused before she nodded. They simultaneously turned towards the stables, hoping that they could find peace of mind in the rich aroma and sheer pleasure of horses.

As they neared the stables, the adolescents noticed that they were not alone in their nighttime stroll, for the lanterns in the stable were lit. When they walked through the large wooden doors, inhaling the fragrance of horses, the twins noticed a rather old elf sitting on the hay-bales, looking as if he had run many miles and only just stopped for a rest, and he was carving a fragment of Mallorn wood. Together the girls moved forward, and the wizened elf looked up from his carving and noticed their presence. With a start, he stood up and gracefully bowed as he said an elvish greeting worthy of the Elven High Court. "Greetings, O Maidens of the Stars and Nobility, would you care for this humble servant to fetch your steeds?"

Unaccustomed to such formality, the sisters were silent for a moment and then answered with equal formality, "No, good stable-keeper. We shall fetch our own horses but we thank you for your kind words and consideration." Then, they moved down the aisle to where their horses were. The stalls that were usually empty were full of horses of every kind. It was hard to maintain the looks of sullen melancholy they had sustained through the past day and night, but Arwen was stubbornly stoic. Elwen, however, could not disguise her curiosity. The twins moved down until they reach their wonderful horses, which although elven, were no extraordinary mounts. With every step they took, a feeling of anticipation grew between the two young women as the words of the stable-hand echoed in their ears.

When they reached the stalls that normally housed their own horses and found them empty, the women turned the face the stable-hand in order to question him, but to their surprise, he was right behind them. With a secretive smile that did not fit his disheveled and unremarkable appearance, he intoned in a voice no longer wheezy, "I shall await your decisions outside," and then departed, leaving Arwen and Elwen to their task. A quizzical glance between them was enough to agree that perhaps this mysterious turn of events had more than a little to do with Atanamir and his vague hints.

Their heads filled with faint, sweet memories of their short time in Rohan, Arwen and Elwen looked over all the horses that were in the stable. Bay, roan, and chestnut; stockings, stars, and blazes; all passed underneath the hands of the sisters. Still, the elf-maids could not shake the feeling that some horses were missing. As they came to that conclusion, they reached the end of the row and turned back to make their decision. Deliberately, a tall stallion, black as midnight, stepped into the stable from outside, followed directly by another stallion, identical to the first save for its white coat, which gleamed like the stars that lit the outside so well. Time seemed to disappear as the black slowly nickered deep in his throat. Arwen and her sister moved forward as one, but stopped when the horses began stamping uneasily and snorting, as if they were to bolt. The girls began again, coaxing the great steeds to them with murmured reassurances. After many minutes, the white stallion strode forward and stood in front of Elwen, and his twin mimicked his movements but toward Arwen instead. The foursome stood still as though enchanted, as if time had stopped; stood as if they were all connected to one another in a simple moment of suspended time.

* * *

When he felt certain that the horses would not leave the sides of the young women, Atanamir entered the stable. He paused for a moment on the threshold, shaking his head in amazement at the sight that greeted him. Though he had been the primary guardian of the elf twins from the time they were but youngsters, they never quite ceased to amaze him; he still could not fathom what other secrets and surprises they held. It astounded him that the sons of Shadowfax, who moments before were enraged at being brought to the woods, were so gentle and docile with the two women. As he neared the group, the white stallion lifted its head and bared its teeth at his approach.

After registering that Atanamir had been the stable-hand all along, Arwen noticed the movement of the stallion and smiled for the first time since morning but did not speak. Atanamir spoke calmly and quietly into the silence as though he had been teaching a normal lesson, saying, "Your choices have been made," and nodding in approval. "I could not have done better. You will do well with these two." He was speaking not to the girls but to the horses themselves. Normally, that would incite a fit of laughter for the adolescents but in the grave moment, it seemed entirely appropriate. "These horses are yours, but remember what we taught you. No animal can belong to us for the animals are simply our companions in this world. These are the sons of Shadowfax. You know of him, yes?" Without waiting for an answer he continued. "The black one is Fëadú, Spirit of the Night, and his brother is Fëarána, Spirit of the Moon. They have chosen to aid you, when you leave our borders. Now, get your rest, there is more for you to do tomorrow," and he turned to leave.

"Wait," Elwen cried, leaving her new companion's side. "Will you please tell us what is forcing you to make us leave?"

Pausing where the moonlight and shadows met at the edge of the doors of the stable, Atanamir turned with his face half-in, half-out of the shadows and replied, "A prophecy older than you can imagine." With that, he entered the shadows and strode into the night.

Moments passed without the sisters knowing as they slowly turned and led their new friends to a comfortable stall outside, located by the tree that had housed them for the past thirteen years. After making the horses comfortable, the young women sat down together to discuss what had passed that night. As they first rays of sunlight filtered through the mallorn leaves at dawn, two curled-up forms could be seen in the stables, watched over by stern and noble equine guards.


	4. A Visitor to These Woods

**Title: **Fair Twins in Middle Earth Did Dwell

**Disclaimer: **J.R.R. Tolkein is responsible for the world history and background, but the principal characters in this fic are my own. I am writing this for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **None yet… only the twins, but no twincest.

**Warnings: Occurs post-Return of the King. **Not compliant with annexes I-III. Presumes that not all elves have departed for the Grey Havens as of the birth of Aragorn and Arwen's grandchildren, two of which this story details. Will include a good deal of violence and possibly some mild sexual activity in later chapters.

**Rating: **T for sexual references and some violence.

**Summary: **Arwen and Elwen, two part-elf descendants of Eldarion son of Aragorn, complete training in arts of the mind and body with elves in Lothlorien to prepare for their part in a prophecy that will decide the balance of light and darkness in the Fourth Age.

**Author's Notes: **I GOT BORED ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH AND STOPPED EDITING. From here on, if I post anything further on this fic, consider it raw, unedited 16-year old attempts at literature.

- 3 –

A Visitor to These Woods

The great wood of Lothlórien lay still but for the rustling of leaves, draped in the silvery blue of the moon and starlight. Little lights cast flickering light, seeming to be shards of the stars themselves, on the graceful, winding staircases that embraced the Mallorn trees. Gradually, the forest grew lighter until the rays of the rising sun began to glow in shafts of pure gold in the spaces between the tree trunks. Birds began to stir in their nests, swooping in and out of the golden light as they pursued their breakfast.

The sunlight streamed in through the leaves of the golden trees and awoke Elwen. For a minute, she watched the sides of (her horse's name) rise and fall with his gentle breathing. Elwen shivered and hugged herself, turning to stand in the doorway and watch the dark splendor of the night give way to the golden magnificence of daytime. She reflected upon the parallel between day and night, and Arwen and herself. Though they were twins, Elwen had darker, loam-brown curls while her sister had straight, golden-spun blonde hair. Arwen's eyes were the blue-green of the lakes and seas, while Elwen's own were the colors of the forest: leafy green ringed by brown earth and dappled with golden sun flecks. Both of the girls' ears were tapered like those of elves but the broadness of their features suggested to others that they were not completely elven, though the sisters knew they had been raised as women of Rohan. The other elves always treated the pair as one person but for Atanamir, who had been the pair's constant teacher and mentor long enough to know the many traits and nuances that set the girls apart. In fact, reflected Elwen, the only person who knew her better than he was her twin. She glanced over to where her sister lay silently on her back, and they shared a quiet moment. Arwen's hair had always reminded Elwen of the light that filtered throough the trees now, pure and golden but not harsh or overbearing. Not like her own hair, which was like rich brown earth and reflected her own more intense presence. Arwen seemed the more mature twin, but Elwen had a deep, brooding side that few had seen. They had shared many a serious moment between them that belied the good-natured joking that was their usual demeanor. Not for the first time, Elwen wished that they knew more about their parents. Was her father mature like Arwen? Or jovial with untold depths like herself? What was their mother like? Did she look like her blonde daughter, or did she have mahogany locks like Elwen?

Elwen sighed, brushing aside these thoughts, and rose from the stall beside the tree that housed them. The sun's light was slowly filtering through the leaves of the Mallorn trees. And so she watched dawn, one of the few peaceful moments she had had in a long time. Without knowing, her sister stepped forth, and stood beside her with her arms clasped behind her back.

Elwen turned to her sister, and in one glance, they shared an understanding so deep, many would not believe it possible. Perhaps that was what tied them so and made them family, the ability to accept each other for who they were, even if they did not know their roots. Behind the twins stood their new companions, the two stallions watching them like silent guardians. The moon and night together like sentinels.

Time passed at of all knowledge, as they enjoyed a simple moment to themselves. The freedom passed as the women took notice of a faint ring in the woods. Interested the young women took off, running toward the din, with the stallions like ghosts at their heels. When they got closer to the clamor, they recognized the clash to be the toll of metal on metal. The clamor originated from a part of the wood the twins rarely visited but for their lessons in blacksmithing.

As they entered the trees surrounding the forge, the two shared a feeling that they had crossed some unseen boundary by entering the clearing. As the twins came closer to the forge, the heard someone singing the Lay of Lúthien in a deep haunting voice. Stealthily, the sisters crept up to the forge and watched as a man, for it was a mortal-man, beat a bar of some metal into shape. Gradually, the bar became a sword, straight and narrow. When, the smith was done beating the metal into shape, and before it cooled, he took a pointed tool and began inscribing a line of runes onto a blade fit for a king.

Without looking up from his work, the man said, "You can quit skulking behind those trees. I will not harm you."

Slowly, Arwen and Elwen stepped out from the trees and walked toward the mortal. This was the first man that they had met since their adoptive family in Rohan so very long ago. Smiling indulgently at their caution, the man spoke to them again. "Do not fear; I do not bite. Much." Elwen smirked at this, but Arwen continued to stare at him with her brow furrowed and her mouth twisting.

The man did not notice, for he had turned back to his work. The two girls did not know how to behave around the mortal, for surely he had to be different than the overly formal elves. Minutes passed, and the man spoke again, "The name's Beruín and there's no need to tell me yours, for I know of you. You be pleased to hear that your adoptive family cannot wait to see you again."

_Adoptive?_ The women exchanged bewildered glances. Was this man referring to the elves with whom they already lived? Arwen said, "Er, we already live here, sir, and the elves aren't our family, just our instructors. We're Rohan born and bred."

Silence followed that statement, which after the noise from the forge, was deafening. Beruín looked up from his work for the first time and the women noticed how old he really was. His brown, unremarkable hair fit in perfectly with his regal features. His wide mouth and slightly large nose were faultless within the block-like face, as if a sculptor had carved his features from stone. His eyes, however, drew the most attention. They were a deep brown that seemed to convey endless depths of knowledge that had been gained at a heavy price: pain and loss.

"So," he said. "The elves have not seen it fit to tell you the truth. You know neither your true heritage, nor your roles on this earth, as it were. That, however, is not important. Elwen, would you grab the package to your left and bring it to me?"

Elwen spluttered, "Not important? It is not _important_ that apparently we have been in the dark our entire lives? Pah! Suddenly you appear, out of Morgoth only knows where-" Arwen made a small noise at her sister's profanity "—and tell us that we're not even who we think we are, then what – we're just supposed to calmly accept all of that without complaint? You don't the first thing about us," Elwen ended in a hiss.

Beruín continued talking as if he had not noticed the outrage in her voice. "It is not my place to tell you if the elves have not. Nor is it the time right now, regardless. Elwen, the package, if you would?" She stalked off and roughly seized the bundle. As she trudged back and handed the parcel to Beruín, a slightly curved sword began to slide out of it. As if in a trance, Elwen brought out her hand, lightning-fast, and caught it by its polished brown grip. At once it seemed as though a light from the heavens illuminated the blade as it settled comfortably into Elwen's palm – but the moment passed as quickly as it came, and _I must have imagined that_, thought the woman. She leaned in colder to the shining steel and read the inscription there: "Aen estar Hadhafang i chathol hen, thand arod dan i thang an i arwen. Idril i hel en aran Gond dolen."

The twins looked in wonder at each other, and then looked at the seemingly normal man, who worked on, oblivious to the awe that possessed them in that moment. Arwen reached out toward the blade, curious to see what would happen when she touched it. When her hand met the blade, a shock went up her arm and she snatched her hand back quickly, as if stung.

Beruín finally turned back to them and when he saw the sword in Elwen's hand his face clouded over in thought for a moment. Then, as if he had not grimaced so, he smiled fiercely at the adolescents, particularly Elwen.

"_Hadhafang_. So the eldest carries the elven blood the most," he said, almost talking to himself, for neither girl understood of what he spoke. "Which means," he declared, turning toward Arwen, "that you carry the Ranger blood." Arwen and Elwen stood there perplexed, thinking that Beruín had lost his mind, as he turned and seized another bundle similar to the one Elwen had grabbed. From the parcel, Beruín drew a sword different from Hadhafang, but a magnificent piece of artistry nonetheless. The blade was straight and narrow, and roughly a meter in length. While the elven blade looked fancy, this blade bore the signs of battle. It was old, but in very good condition. Sewn into the scabbard was a small sheathed knife, useful for cleaning game and such.

Beruín handed the sword to Arwen hilt first, and it seemed to leap into her hand as if compelled by some unseen force. Gasping in wonder, Arwen could only nod her thanks. Looking back and forth between the young women, Beruín said, "The blade does not have a true name, but it used to belong to a Dúnedain named Strider, a powerful and dangerous man… And now," he continued. "Your packs and parcels: they are gifts from the elves and the kingdoms of men."

Elwen took her pile with a noncommittal grunt. When she unwrapped the first parcel, however, she could not stop a gasp of surprise from leaving her lips. _insert crappy, long-winded description of stuff. I got bored, sue me._

Arwen, on the other hand, had a more simple dress; some white tunics with black knee breeches and high-knee black boots. Her cloak was as black as night and long enough to cover her entire body, with a hood deep enough to hide her face. Her shield was a round royal blue one emblazed with the silver eight-pointed star that was her insignia. Beneath her normal garb, there was leather armor, not a complete set, but enough to protect her in conflict. The leather was a dark brown, a color that could blend into the background of any forest and the leather pants went down to her knees. The leather top was more of a vest; it was cut off at the sleeves for mobility and was lightweight enough to wear for a long time. This armor could be fastened on top of her normal attire quickly if in need.

Then there was an arsenal of weapons. In her bundle were countless knives, some tapered for throwing and others were fit with sheaths that could fit in her boots for boot knives. There were even knives that sheathed into another knife so she could tuck them in her sleeves and have double the amount of weapons in the same space. One knife in particular, was remarkable. It was a curved blade with an elven inscription, roughly as long as her forearm. This knife could easily be strapped to the back of her sword belt that came with the Sword of Strider.

Then, there were two curved blades, only a few inches shorter than the sword she carried at her hip; the weapons were narrow enough to carry on her back on top of her black cloak. In between the twin swords, she could carry a quiver full of blue-fletched arrows with sharp, narrow points. Her bow, which was several inches taller than she, was simple but elegant; a dark, rich wood with no decoration except for a leather grip and matching leather wrist guard.

Each gift was of the highest quality, and the twins were astounded by the generosity of the inhabitants of Middle-earth. As each priceless gift was received, the twins could only gaze in wonderment and the mortal man said nothing.

After some time, Beruín walked slowly to the stallions standing at the edge of the clearing. As the golden light came in through the trees, the horses seemed unreal. Beruín measured the chargers with his hands, after nodding to himself several times; the man went back to the forge. From behind the anvil, the mortal reached for something the twins could not see. As he rose, the two women saw that in his hands, the man held several saddlebags and straps. Connected to those straps were immense broadswords, two for each twin. He went back to the horses and, surprisingly, asked them in elvish if he could put this gear on them.

A moment in consideration, and the steeds nodded their consent. Quickly, the mortal man strapped on the broadswords, one on each side of the horse and the saddlebags on the back on those straps. The straps were thin and supple enough that they did not hinder the chargers movements at all. The young women did not need saddles to ride nor would the sons of Shadowfax permit such a demeaning object to be placed upon them. If fact, it was stretching their limits to even put on the saddlebags, swords and straps on them.

When his work was finished, Beruín spun back toward the girls and said, "You have a powerful destiny, but there are those who would wish to stop you from fulfilling that destiny. Use you weapons wisely and justly for there are few who could match your skill. Your saddlebags can be used to store provisions and any other items you would wish to take with you. Here," he said as he thrust two water bags at each girl. "Now," he continued. "Your choices are made, and I for one, am surprised at its outcome. The time has come and passed for me to depart, so if you both would excuse me," and he spun on heel and walked to the edge of the clearing.

The horses moved in front of him to stop him and Elwen, finding her voice, said, "Who are you, really?"

Without, looking at them, the man replied, "I am no one. Just someone you should have met but never had the opportunity to." The illusion faded into nothing, as the air or spirit that the women thought was Beruín, dissipated. [It is Aragorn's spirit seeing his granddaughters]

Stunned, the twins of day and twilight stood there as Atanamir stepped out behind them. Finally, the twins noticed their mentor standing behind them. Atanamir simply stood there, for once, not speaking. Then he turned away from the twins and started to walk away from them. Unwilling to find out what would test them next, the young women let him go, hoping that he would not tell them when the next _cered_ was. The adolescents left the forge and went back to the stable underneath the Mallorn tree that housed them. After cleaning up their mounts, the two girls climbed up the stairs to their quarters, changed their clothes, and washed up. When they were done, the twins went back down to floor of the forest for their lessons but their teachers and writing tables were gone.

They looked around and Daekáno walked down the stairs across the clearing, reading a book in the golden light that streamed through the leaves of the Mallorn trees. Together, Arwen and Elwen strolled over to the Rivendell elf. The elf looked up as the two got closer and he said, "Good day, Atanamir ask me to inform you that there will be no lessons at all today. You both have been giving the day to yourselves."

Shocked and already upset from their experience with Beruín, Elwen snapped, "No lessons? Well that is very nice. All our lives we have been worked from sun up to sun down, never resting, even if we were ill or during a celebration."

Daekáno raised an eyebrow and said, "I see Atanamir was correct about your heritage." Remembering their conversation with Beruín, the girls blushed furiously and Elwen opened her mouth full with a retort but Daekáno held up his hand. "I understand that you do not yet know where you are going when you leave, yes?" the twins nodded, not yet knowing what he meant by this. Daekáno continued, "If you wish, you may travel with my company and me to visit Rivendell."

Seeing that her sister was about the remark again with her sharp tongue, Arwen quickly intervened, "We would be honored to travel with you and your companions. Rivendell has always held our interest." Daekáno just nodded and walked off into the distance. Arwen turned to her sister and chided her, "You say I have a temper yet here you sit yelling at an elf-lord because the person you want to yell at has disappeared. You are the eldest so act like it."

Temporarily silent for her twin's out burst, which was so unlike her, Elwen realized some truth as to what Arwen was saying. Nonetheless, Elwen frowned at younger sister. "Listen to your own words my twin, but," she said as she held up her hand. "I understand what you are saying and I am sorry. I am tired and truthfully, very confused but I have no right to take my anger out on those who do not have my anger." The sisters clasped hands, ending any fight that might have occurred if the twins were not so ready to accept each other.

PENIS.


End file.
